


One at a Time

by DeanRiordain



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: 2016 Presidential Election, 2016 US Presidential Election, Angst, Anti-Trump, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Grief, Hope for America, Hopeful Ending, Hurt Misha, Jensen Ackles - Freeform, M/M, Misha Collins - Freeform, Misha's Video, Vicki Vantoch - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-09
Updated: 2016-11-09
Packaged: 2018-08-30 02:38:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8515336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeanRiordain/pseuds/DeanRiordain
Summary: Inspired by Misha's video post 2016 US Presidential Election.It's sad, heartfelt, and heavy with a lot of feels.#ThankYouMisha, for even with whatever you are feeling, going through, and aching with...you have continued to be a beautiful person, an inspiration, and I will never stop believing in you.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [angelus_domini](https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelus_domini/gifts).



> IMPORTANT:
> 
> ~If you're still reeling from the election, bookmark this and come back to it later. Your mental health comes first, and this is pretty deep.  
> ~This is Anti-Trump, so if you're a Trump supporter, that is your decision, but please don't critique my work based on a difference of opinion.  
> ~Also, I heavily believe Misha is an empath. To learn more about them: https://theknowing1.wordpress.com/traits-of-an-empath/
> 
> Also, my "Sugar Sister" was writing something very similar to this before I started writing...so, am linking back to hers here- she did it first, folks! http://archiveofourown.org/works/8514778 Go read it, and comment.
> 
> Please post POSITIVE energy here, we've all been through enough.  
> With love.

 

 

* * *

Misha worked so hard...he truly did, as he always did. Most people didn’t know how exhausting the past few months had been on him, even more than usual- which was saying something. He lived in a pretty constant state of being tired...going so far as to fall asleep on a plane, or while he was waiting for his appearance on set...wherever was convenient. It had never been trouble to him, though, to convince himself that it was for the greater good.

He wasn’t egotistical, nor was he arrogant enough to think that in the grand scheme of things, he would fix everything. That just wasn’t doable...not even his beloved gishers could create a bandage of that capacity for the world. But he tried…

And this time...he couldn’t help but feel like he had failed. He’d spent the days prior to the election shouting encouragement to the masses until his voice was hoarse and he had to drink tea and honey, which Vicki generously gave him when he came home. He’d spent time, effort, money, and influence to try to convince everyone to do the right thing. He imagined, even as he watched the polls being counted, Ohio going from a red state to a happy medium before flickering back to red, that he’d had influence on hundreds, maybe thousands.

He’d stayed up all night, eyelids heavy and tired, his energy completely depleted- as he wished, and he hoped for the safety and prosperity of America. It hit him harder than most people when his worst fears came to realization, and he cried right then and there, though he couldn’t figure out whom he was shedding the most tears for- his children, his wife, his boyfriend, his friends and family, his fans, or all of America in a whole...all of the world in a whole.

It was the trouble with being an empath...Misha felt for all of them, and he cried, and cried on Vicki as she ran her fingers lovingly through his hair until he couldn’t stomach the reality and ran off, watching last night’s dinner come up again until he was empty. He sat with his head over the toilet, wondering if the sick feeling would ever leave.

He went to bed for all of ten minutes, screaming into his pillow to drown out the negative feelings. He heard his phone buzzing every couple minutes, and he didn’t want to know if it was Darius, or Jensen, or Jared...right now he just didn’t care.

He tried to dry away the tears as West and Maison woke up. He knew he’d have to tell them the bad news in a way they could understand...but he couldn’t bring himself to do it...not now. This was never the outcome he wanted for his children. The pain he felt chiseled at his heart, at his core until he felt numb and couldn’t cry anymore for the state of the world.

He ended up in front of the house, staring blankly at Twitter as updates poured in second after second, and he just had to close down the phone entirely.

Misha watched the sun climb higher and higher, he watched the wind blow leaves around, and people emerge from their homes, drive down the street, carrying on with their lives. He felt defeated, his heart deflated...like he couldn’t carry on. This was the end.

He knew, even then, he didn’t have time for self-pity...it was never a part of him. Even though his hands were shaking, his eyes burning and his heart aching in his chest, he picked up his phone and recorded a video. He didn’t trust himself to make it through a livestream without breaking...didn’t want to see the reaction, not yet...but these people needed to know there was hope...and they looked up to him.

 _I will make a difference,_ Misha vowed to himself, _I will not let this change me, who I am, or the heart I carry. I will make this a safe haven for those I love, and those who care about the world._

He took a deep breath before hitting ‘record’.

“The political process is but one way to affect change,” he said with determination, “I am going to make movies that change minds, I am gonna spread a message of love and kindness that is infectious and I…” he caught himself feeling too hard again. _Too much heart was always my problem, too._ “Am _not_ going to give up. I love this country too much.” He cracked, tears spilling from his cheeks as he quickly hit the stop button, and then the publish button on Facebook.

He turned back to the house, determined to love his kids and his wife extra hard today. He stopped Vicki in the middle of cooking, taking over, and making them all breakfast. He played the airplane game with both West, and Maison, swinging them through the air, and tickling them, not looking at his phone once.

“Misha,” Vicki said, phone to her ear, while Misha strummed the tiny ukulele he’d bought West on one of their excursions, singing badly to some goofy song, “It’s Darius.”

“Not now.”

She nodded.

Hours passed, and the day drew to a close. Misha was picking West’s toys up from the yard when he was approached.

“Jesus Christ, Mish.”

“Jensen?”

“Yeah...how about a call? I was worried sick.”

Misha looked from Jensen, to the house, “Aren’t you in Vancouver?”

“Obviously not,” Jensen said. “Are you okay? I saw your video and…” Usually they waited until they were safely inside, away from the world’s prying eyes; but, Jensen wrapped his arms around Misha, holding him close. Usually, it was the other way around. “I called and texted and you wouldn’t pick up. I got worried and took off.”

“Jens, I’m…”  
“Don’t say fine,” Jensen warned.

“Okay, well...I’m not fine. I’m trying, though. I meant what I said, I’m going to change the world, one act of kindness at a time.”

Jensen pulled back, features softening into a smile, “I know you will. I never doubted you. Come inside, Mish. I wanted to show you something.”

They watched the new _Shaving People, Punting Things_  video together, watching Jensen make silly sounds and faces on the screen, Misha smiling again, even through protests of “Jens...I’m not a chi-” he turned to face Jensen, who was now cross-eyed and burst out laughing.

He didn’t stop laughing until Vicki brought out snacks and cocoa, and the three of them settled down, one on either side of Misha, and watched _The Matrix_ , because it was one of his favorites.

The moment didn’t change what had happened, and a part of him was still depressed for it, disappointed most certainly. However, what the time did give him, was a new truth. There were things worth fighting for, beautiful things- like his two loves curled up beside him, his children sleeping upstairs- and hell, Keanu Reeves for being badass as hell.

When they paused the movie to order a pizza, Misha finally picked up his phone, replying to Darius: ‘Am fine. Don’t worry. Talk soon.’

Before he put it back away, he noticed Twitter flashing, and opened it to take a peek.

_Trending World-Wide: Thank you, Misha._

He shed a final tear. There was work to be done. He wasn’t at all ready to give up, and tomorrow was another day, and he’d start it as he always did- loudly, and full of heart, and passion. He’d change the world in little ways, one act at a time.


End file.
